I see silence as I re-wind
The memories;
And each sin is a crime against
My Love and my God;
And thus I bleed in my tears
And cry in my wounds,
All turned to scars rememberéd.
How many regrets will it be
Until I understand how
I am to be?
How many days
Must I folly or mask
Failures until I know truth?
Pushed by ignorance; doubted
By law; haunted by memories
And thoughts of what
Was, were, should have been,
But wasn’t or not fully
Realized in time by my
Defunct or deficient
Faculties?
Silently screaming to a deaf past,
I write and I figure,
I elaborate and imagine,
But all that comes at time
Seems to be little more than woe.
But I am not trapped.
Comments
OMG!!!!!! Wow, it seems the more I venture, the more masterpieces I find! Some of the best literature art is on your page. GREAT, FANTASTIC, AMAZING!
That’s a pretty huge compliment. Thank you so very much.